The question
by Lherelenfeline
Summary: Part2 of dialogues. HPSS slash, future fic AU. What happens when two damaged beings are tied together by the one person they both cannot refuse and refuse to hurt? What happens when finally srt speaking the same language? What if they let themselves feel?
1. Default Chapter

> **The Question**  
  
"And this is where your Uncle Draco and I almost got lost when we were eleven", said Harry while picking his way through the dense underbrush on the Forbidden Forest. Walking through the forest was no small feat on his own, never mind the squirming nine year old in his arms. Add on a mutated grim, to use on of Severus' phrases, and Harry current foul mood was more than justified. Never in a million years would he have imagined himself like this. A single parent by the age of twenty-three, with no lover to show for the "bundle of joy", and still at Hogwarts. Of course there was Severus, and he wasn't really still at Hogwarts. He did get his six years away, and he did have his medical license... Besides, whenever did his life go according to plan? He was the bleeding Boy- Who –Lived. As Albus pointed out back when he demanded to go to Muggle university instead of an Auror internship; his life was never truly his own.

> "Uncle Draco says it was all your fault for taking the lantern", said the ' bundle of joy', effectively breaking Harry out of his morose thoughts. He shifted the boy onto his left hip and finally broke out of the underbrush. Clear across the filed was Hogwarts, home to him and soon to become home to his son.

"Uncle Draco is the one who ran away screaming, just don't let your aunt know that. Ok?" "Or she'll call him 'slimy Slytherin ' again?" "Yes, yes, exactly. Tell me, what else does she call Draco?" The dog, hearing what Harry had code named the 'D-word' , bounced back and twined around his legs with an unmistakable doggy grin. Seven years later, and Ron still never missed a chance to laugh at Draco's expense. "Well, she called him a 'bloody wanker' when he spilled the milk..." And Harry privately decided to never leave his son with Hermione again. At least with Severus, Killian learned to read in the space of three months. He'd soon have the 'Snape eyebrow' down pat as well. Funny how Harry didn't really mind. Try as he might, he could never figure out exactly where he and Snape stood. They'd shared quarters for the entirety of the past school year, and Killian took to calling Snape ' papa Sev' with no repercussions. In the same vein, they were still not on first name bases. Perhaps he was doomed to uncertainty. There were more pressing things to worry about anyway.

Meanwhile, Ron decided to break out in a mad dash for home and Harry, having no plans to be out alone with his son followed. The only certain thing in his life was snuggled into his arms; no doubt dreaming of his own lost parents and the strange world his adopted daddy lived in.


	2. Multiplied

Part two's here. Sorry it took me a bit. As usual , everything but my idea belongs to JKR. Also, as usual, comments are welcome. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------  
  
Harry slowly padded into his rooms that night, afraid to wake Killian who was notoriously hard to put to bed and nearly did the deed by tripping over the dog shaped mound in front of the fireplace. Unlike the rooms above ground, his quarters did not have a sitting room. Instead, the front door opened directly into the living room. Coincidentally, the dungeons suites were the only that had actual doors. Even Dumbledore had the statue guarding him. Another little known fact was the two levels of dungeon quarters were directly connected to each other and to a tunnel. Thus, anyone from the top level could walk down the staircase next to the bathroom, emerge in the living room closet of the lower lever residence and leave the castle with no one the wiser. The Marauders didn't know about those passages , as they didn't show up on the map until Harry modified it in his seventh year, so it was a safe bet that one but him and Snape knew about them. The measure of security was one of the reasons he chose that particular suite. Now however, he was busily cursing the room's layout, the dim lights and Hogwarts in general. The dog slowly shifted into strapping red headed man and turned to the flustered wizard.

"Would you mind keeping it down mate?"

"Sorry." Mumbled the suitably chastised Harry and stepped to the side before slowly picking up the slumbering boy. "Why isn't he in bed?' he continued while making his way deeper into the suite, to the last door on the right, across the corridor from the staircase. Ron didn't answer and stayed outside while Harry put his son to sleep. When he emerged, Ron silently motioned him to return to the living room. There, he took a bottle of red wine of the mantel and pored two glasses. "Dinner's in the charmed cabinet, had to chase Dobby's cleanup crew off it twice." Once he was satisfied that Harry wasn't ignoring supper again, Ron spoke.

"What exactly is going on between you and Snape?" That earned him a patented 'Potter-confused look' , so he clarified; "I'm not asking for my delicate sensibilities you know. I could hardly care less about the ' big bad and greasy'"

"Then why ask at all?"

"Because Killian was waiting for 'papa Sev' and wouldn't go to sleep, that's why..."

"Well, why didn't you call him up here then..."

"... and I really don't want the kid hurt if whatever it is you've got going on is trivial"

"He's right downstairs."

"Snape's been away all afternoon, and you're avoiding my question."

"Wait a minute, Sev's not here?"

"To state the obvious, Morgana, let me count the ways! That what is what I said, isn't it?" Harry answered with a succinct "Bugger!" and finished off his glass. Once Ron poured him another and returned the bottle to the mantle he finished his dinner and made to leave the suite. "Where are you going?"

"Downstairs, to see if Snape's back, and if he needs anything. You wouldn't mind staying a little longer. Would you?"

"There you do again. Of course I'll stay. You know I've got no place else to be right now. Can you just tell me what going on with you and the Git?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing", replied Harry and closed the door behind him.

That wasn't completely true, and his consciousness heartily agreed as he made his way to the sublevel below his. True, Snape and him weren't involved, but Snape obviously had a bond with Killian, and he was the boy's parent. Didn't that warrant a bond between them as well? He arrived at a warded door and hissed to the brass snake, which served as a lock. She liked him and let him in, even though the wards singed him. There was his answer. He had more of a bond with Severus' door than with the man himself. Not that he was surprised. He slowly walked into the living room, and noted the absence of fire in the hearth. He easily extinguished the smoldering corner of his robe, and reminded himself to send the bill for it's repair to Snape. He lost more robes to his wards than he did to the students' pranks. Pathetic. Once he was satisfied that the Potion's Master was truly away, Harry made his way to the couch in the corner of the room and settled in.It was going to be one of 'those' nights and he had to intention of falling into useless dreaming again.


	3. Routines

Here's part 3. Sorry it took me so long to write it, but real life interfered. as always, i own nothing but the plot. Any comments would be welcome as wither a rewiew, or an e mail.

When Harry walked into the staff room and saw Severus drinking his usual mug full of coffee, his first impulse was to bloody the man's nose. His aching body wholeheartedly agreed with his brain. One could not spend nights on Snape's couch and not pay the price, Harry Potter or not. To add on to Harry's consternation, both Flitwick and Trelawney were in the room, negating any possibility of having a talk with Snape. Instead, Harry made his way to the coffee pot, poured himself a nice cuppa and left without saying a word to anyone. What was the point, really? Snape was studiously reading Witch Weekly, upside down and Harry could barely tolerate the other two. Besides, he had an annoyed animagus, not to mention a sleepy child in his rooms.  
  
An exuberant ,"Daddy!" from the bathroom welcomed him home. The rather tousled Ron Weasley waved from the open bathroom door, showing that he did indeed survive another night long session with the youngest Potter.

"Any news about,.. er.. well"

"He's here, I know nothing more, nor do I want to at this point" replied Harry while following his son out of the bathroom and into his room. "I saw him in the staff room"

"Whom Dad?"

"Professor Snape, and before you ask, you can see him at breakfast" That produced the usual speedy dressing from Killian and the three made their entrance to the Great Hall just before the students were due to arrive. The boy made a beeline to the seat on Snape's left, plopped himself onto the chair and busied himself with a pastry. Harry didn't want to be in the great hall. He wasn't hungry. Neither he didn't fancy sitting at the head table, exhibited like a rare animal. He was no longer a child, and Hogwarts had lost it's wonder sometime between his departure to the university and his return. The charmed ceiling didn't seem interesting and the house elves were to be avoided at all costs. Sometime between 17 and 23, The Boy Who Lived got his own life and Hogwarts was stifling him. The only reason he did return to the school after getting his Muggle M.B.B.S. and license to practice medicine was the death of Poppy Pomfrey. Her replacement had just been found, thus leaving Harry only his emergency medi-wizardry classes. How Dumbledore got the change of curriculum past the Board of Governors, and specifically Lucius Malfoy, was still a mystery to him. As things stood, Harry taught third years and up, and supplemented Remus' DADA curriculum. It wasn't a bad job; he just didn't want to be at here.  
Tugging on his sleeve signaled that Killian had finished his breakfast.

"What would you like to do for the rest of the day?" The brown haired nine year old licked wiped his mouth with his sleeve, much to Harry's consternation and looked over at Severus. "Maybe later you can, but not until Professor Snape and I have a talk, why don't you visit the headmaster meanwhile?" That produced a pout, but Killian obeyed, getting up and walking over to Dumbledore who was, as usual happy to see the boy. Meanwhile Harry noticed Severus finishing his food, and quickly left the hall, knowing that the man would follow him. Even if he didn't want to talk to him, he did want to see Killian, and Harry knew that.  
  
Severus caught up to Harry halfway to the hospital wing.

"You wished to talk, Mr. Potter?"

"What happened yesterday night?"

"And I assume you have a good reason for wanting to know that information?"

"Killian wouldn't sleep until he saw you. What happened?"

"That, Mr. Potter is between me and my brain. Safe to assume me alive , seeing as we're having a conversation. Beyond that, is none of your concern."

"Right, of course," replied Harry as he held the infirmary door for Severus and led him to his office. The new medi-witch wasn't present, allowing them a modicum of privacy.

"Do the, er. Herbal remedies.. Not work anymore?"

"They do, although my body is growing accustomed to the effects and that means longer exposures for the same result. Which would explain my absence from your rooms yester night."

"What happened Severus? Do not make me scan you. I only ask to I don't expose you to unnecessary magic". Harry knew it was a blatant lie, but it was the most logical reason for his question. Severus was nothing if not a logical man.

"Nothing more than overexposure to cruciatus and two broken ribs. I trust you can take care of that? I have already reported to Albus, so there is time."

"Always", said Harry and started repeating by now familiar routine of patching up the other man. Lately, he's been doing it every week. As he wound the potion soaked gauze around Severus' ribs, he marked it as another reason for making Voldemort's death as painful as he could.


	4. Clandestine

The Question, part 3

SS/HP, angst, adventure

All the usual disclaimers apply. I own nothing but the plot.

Please review. I need to know how I'm doing on this.  
  
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The best thing about Harry Potter was the fact that he never asked. No annoyingly saccharine questions. No pretence of surprise. If Potter was anything, he was not a hypocrite. Even now, he didn't attempt to hide his annoyance with the potions master. His smallish hands moved deftly around Severus' ribcage but he made no attempt at small talk. Severus much preferred his bedside manner to Poppy's. It was a shame she'd died. Still, she knew what she was walking into when she ran out onto the Quidditch pitch to save yet another Weasley. After neatly tying off the gauze, potter turned to him with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"I don't suppose you'd be willing to take two days of bed rest?" To his half amused shake of head, Harry nodded and unwarded a smallish safe on top of his desk.  
  
"Take these for three days, no longer. It's codeine, and is more addictive than anything you've ever come up with". With that, Severus was handed a tin of pills and ushered out of the medi-wizard's office.  
  
"Killian will be expecting you at tea time", said Potter and was gone in a swish of moss green robes. The man never wore any other colour. It was almost like his own use of black, although, he chose his colour as a shield. The less inviting he looked, the less people would come his way and find his lacking. Thus a huge amount of heartache and disappointment was avoided and no time at all was wasted on petty socializing. If Severus knew anything, it was that time was precious, not only because of this pathetic war, but because life was a fickle woman. One never knew when she'd leave him and Severus was determined not to loose a single moment. So what if he knew not to expect personal happiness? He would leave a mark on this world; make it better and live on in his accomplishments. How many greats were happy anyway? He opened his classroom door with a satisfying bang and sauntered in, terrifying his fifth years. The class was Slytherin and Ravenclaw, stable, if thoroughly predictable and boring. Slytherins knew to fear him, and studying was in the very nature of the Ravenclaw house. He hastily commanded the chalk to write out the scheduled formula, and gingerly sank into his chair. His ribs hurt; and while he would not let Harry see his agony, he was not above making it easier for himself. They throbbed with the distracting while of torn and neglected flesh and each pulse was a reproach. He would not take any of the shiny white pellets until he'd eaten, and so it was just he and his body until lunch.

* * *

Two hours and four melted cauldrons later, Severus made his way down to his quarters in hopes for a quiet hour to eat and savour the silence. The brown haired eight year old lounging in his sitting room dashed his hopes. He also dashed Severus' breath when he slammed into him in greeting.  
  
"And what are you doing here at this hour?" He asked once able to breathe again. His attempt at being imperious failed when he bent down to ruffle Killian's hair.  
  
"Daddy said I could have lunch with you, so I jumped into the fireplace in my room" replied the boy and headed for the kitchen as though he owned the place. Considering how much time he'd spent there, it was not at all surprising.  
  
"And who said I would have enough for you?"  
  
"Dobby, and daddy, and uncle Ron, and daddy said to wait for him, because uncle Ron's tail caught in the infirmary door and daddy's fixing him". With that, the boy pulled the platter of sandwiches to him and snagged the top piece. Well leave it to the mutt. The mutated grim would no doubt tag along with Harry and stick around for lunch negating any possibility of conversation with Potter. After this people had the nerve to ask why he was not a dog person.  
  
"I suppose you're to say here until he arrives?"  
  
The boy nodded with his full mouth and turned around effectively devoting all of his attention to the triple-decker monstrosity with ham, cheese, turkey and Dobby knows what else. Severus busied himself with his own liverwurst and cucumber, trying to eat as much as possible because there would hardly be time once Potter came in. He remembered the last time he'd waited for Potter to get there in order to eat. He ended up without any dinner that night and was summoned until the very morning. Time was not to be wasted. He had just flushed two pellets down with water when the overly familiar shaggy head poked around the door to the stairs connecting their quarters. The slender medi-wizard noticed them at the table and jauntily made his way to his son's chair.  
  
"I see everyone's fine. Killian, really, do wipe that off your nose." With that, Potter settled himself on the counter and bit into his own sandwich. Severus tried not to stare at the lithe body directly in front of him. The younger man was a creature of beauty, all sleek line, taught sinew and flawless skin. He was forbidden to Severus by that alone. No use is jeopardising their friendship with his lechery.  
  
"Since when is your son allowed to floo? He may be your, but he is not above the laws of physics"  
  
"Killian?"  
  
"I saw you do it, I did it right daddy! I took the purple sand from the pretty vase Aunt Hermione gave you for your birthday and said ' Snape's rooms".  
  
"Killian that's not an excuse. Please go upstairs and wait with uncle Ron until I return." Once the child was up the stairs and effectively out of earshot he turned to Severus and raised an expectant eyebrow.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I know what Albus knows, mainly that the Grangers have to be moved tonight. Remus is taking care of that right now. I know that Draco is under suspicion and that centaurs are to be backed up in three days time. I want to know what would offend Albus' delicate sensibilities."  
  
" We have three months before he strikes. We both need to be ready by then. Draco is not going back there if Hermione is worth her salt as his partner and Lucius is the closest agent we've got to Voldemort. Anything else?"  
  
"Do drop the sarcasm Severus, seeing the condition of your ribs, I'd say your position was shaky. I don't want you to risk your too much."  
  
"As I've said before, I am expendable, you, Draco and Lucius are not."  
  
"Pray tell how you've arrived at this brilliant conclusion?"  
  
"It's quite easy, Lucius, Draco and you have direct dependents, and I do not. That said, I've class to teach." said Severus and walked out, leaving his shell-shocked companion to gaze into the greenish flames in the hearth.  
  
_Oh Severus, but you do..._


	5. Misconnection

The Question, part 5

SS/HP, angst, adventure

All the usual disclaimers apply. I own nothing but the plot. Please review. I need to know how I'm faring on this. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------  
  
It was just his sheer luck, or lack thereof, as it were. As soon as he'd eased himself into bed, his wards screeched forcing him up much faster than his body would have liked. It let its displeasure be known with a viscous muscle spasm, which left him in a huddled heap, by his bed. That's exactly how a rather dishevelled looking Draco Malfoy found him.

"I suppose pain potions are above you now?" said Malfoy and without further preamble headed to the cluttered nightstand. His hand easily found the large blue-green bottle and turned back to Severus.  
  
"And I suppose knocking so people don't get startled out of taking their potions is above you. Give it here, "gasped the downed man right through the ineffective sneer. Once the scorching burn of the potion eased his chest and he could breathe again, Severus lowered himself to an actual sitting position against his bed frame.  
  
"What's got you in such a tizzy anyway?"  
  
"You". When the reply appeared to limit itself to a raise eyebrow, Draco explained further. "Whatever you said to Potter has him looking paler than death. May I also point out that he's paced a groove in the floor and his eyes are wider than Dobby's on a bad day? Considering that he's our 'saner' alternative to Dumbledore, I'd say the situation is bad."  
  
"And you've deduced my involvement how?"  
  
"Your name was the only thing I could discern in his mumbling. What did you say?" Severus looked up from his seat on the floor. His eyes reflected honest confusion. The look didn't fit well on the irascible Potions Master's face.  
  
"Either sit down, or help me up. I've no desire to shout sit feet up on a subject I seem to have no idea about." Once Draco sat, opting not to heave the man up himself, Snape continued his thought.  
  
"I've said nothing to deliberately irritate the man, if that's what you're asking. In fact our last conversation was purely business, or as business as it could be with his son around. Did you know the fuzzy menace flooed into my rooms? They may not be related by blood, but he certainly is his father's son."  
  
"You're going off topic."  
  
"Sorry. As I was saying, Potter and I talked plans, which you and that peacock father of yours will find out tomorrow. I mentioned that your position was compromised and that you should be off the field, for Granger's sake mind you..."  
  
"The hell I should! If I go off field, so do you! You, if anything, are more compromised than I am!"  
  
"Exactly the position Potter attempted to make a case for. However, both of you are missing one major point."  
  
"That being?"  
  
"I'm expendable, and you aren't"  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"Come Malfoy, there ought to be a brain in the pretty head of yours, if not hereditary, then at least via osmosis. You have a dependent, I don't."  
  
"Come again?"  
  
"Osmosis didn't work then. You have a family in the persons of peacock the senior and Granger. They need you. I on the other hand affect no one, and should I expire in the course of this conflict, no one else's emotional state and thus productivity will be compromised." In the momentarily total silence, Severus looked over to Draco again, and found him gaping like a fish.  
  
"You told Potter THAT!"  
  
"Of course. The imbecile wouldn't have gotten it on his own."  
  
Draco looked at him again and his eyes got even wider, and a sliver of something suspiciously like pity swam to the surface. He then got up, shook his head and headed for the door. Once there, he turned around to take in his former professor. Snape sprawled on the floor in a near boneless heap and was looking up to him with an even more confused expression on his face. "Severus, when will you ever learn that we are all responsible for those we tame?" It took him a double dose of the Dreamless Sleep potion to finally fall into the much desired oblivion, though Malfoy's words kept on annoyingly echoing through his head.  
  
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Next afternoon, just past lunchtime, one Harry Potter was furiously chasing a small black speck in the sky. The said speck wove precariously through the turrets and parapets of the castle, narrowly missing corners and windows. Having had been at it for more than a half hour Harry was visibly exhausted. The specks status as his son served to only compound his exhaustion. Suddenly, the dot lurched to a stop and started falling to the ground without any semblance of control. Without any thought Harry followed, accelerating his own descent and setting himself right under Killian in an attempt to redirect the fall. He managed to slow the boy's momentum, but it was not nearly enough. They fell, with Harry bearing the brunt of the impact. That was why he couldn't hold on to the boy who followed the trajectory and rolled, landing on the ground with a sickening crunch. His arm was broken.  
Out of his mind with fear, Harry got up and disregarding his worn bruised scooped the small body off the ground and all but ran to the infirmary. The crunch was too wet to have been just bone. They say one sees their whole life, as they're about to die. As Harry rushed his son to the infirmary, every memory of Killian he had danced right under his eyelids. He first met the by when he was twenty and interning in a Muggle orphanage. For all the horrors of the war he'd seen, nothing could have emotionally prepared him for the sheer plight of these abandoned children. Not one was over five and none of the fifty had any biological relations. It made him grateful for the Dursleys and his cupboard. It may have been small, but it was his. He tried very hard not to play favourites, but the silent boy of five, who would not play with anyone, aroused his interest. The child looked relatively healthy compared to the rest of the group home's inhabitants and always sat by himself, reading. In a five year old, that was rare. He thought that the child may have been a new arrival, but the other staff told him Killian had been there since birth. They also told him that not being entertaining and vivacious lowered his chances of ever being adopted. One day he asked the boy why he always sat by himself. The boy looked into his eyes for one long moment and gave a very prolonged sigh.  
  
"I start fires sir, when I'm angry.." When Harry's internship ended three months later, Killian left with him. He grown to genuinely love the boy within the week of knowing him and now his heart painfully constricted with the thought of his son's injuries. Madame Occasia met him at the door, and the young Mediwitch immediately got to work on the small body. Harry was left to catch his own breath and mend his bruised back. Finally twenty minutes later, the Woman stepped out from behind the screen and motioned for him to come closer.  
  
"He's got a broken shoulder and a torn muscle. Altogether lucky considering the fall the two of you took. He'll be sleeping until tomorrow morning. I trust you've taken care of your own injuries?"  
  
At Harry's nod she ran her wand over him and satisfied ushered him from the infirmary. Poppy Pomfrey she was not, she was efficient. Harry glanced at his watch, realised it was almost two in the afternoon and hastily made his way to the apparition point. If he was to defeat Voldemort within three months, he had to know his intelligence reports, sans Albus induced sugar coating.


	6. Concentration

The Question- Chapter 6

As usual, all the characters are JKR's. Only Killian is mine. I don't look to profit from this so don't sue me please. An enormous 'thank you' to Lantaana for betaing, and as always comments are welcome and appreciated.

* * *

Harry apparated to one of Hogsmeade's alleyways and took a quick look around. Save three squirrels, the area was empty. Confidentiality taken care of, he tapped the trunk of the old birch that leaned precariously against the side of the Leaky Cauldron. Inside, the tree was hollowed out into a spiral staircase with windows into every one of the building's three secret rooms, one on every floor. While the order members generally knew of the rooms, no one but Harry and Rosmerta were aware of the tree's dual functions. This allowed him to observe the people gathered in the rooms without being noticed; to everyone outside, the trunk appeared whole.

The scene inside was too peaceful for the individuals assembled. Severus Snape, Malfoy the elder and Ron Weasley were in the same four walls and no blood was flowing. Draco was not found, and Harry decided to wait it out. The younger Malfoy's entrance would serve as a diversion for his own. As much as he trusted the people inside, he did need to keep some secrets to himself. Meanwhile, he took his time to observe those assembled. Snape, looking not much better than he did yesterday half sat- half lounged on the plush mud-coloured sofa and was obviously embroiled in a discussion with Lucius. His fingers moved rapidly around the page he was holding and the long lost snide glint was back in his eyes. To Harry, he was magnificent, a phoenix in raven's clothing, always playing with death, fooling him on a bi- weekly basis yet never dying himself. Lucius sat with his back to Harry, so he could make no decision about the man. His body language however radiated restrained excitement, which intrigued Harry further. It was rare for both of the senior spies to agree so completely with each other. Ron occupied an armchair opposite the two older men and had an old copy of the Quidditch Monthly in his hands. He was not reading it. Instead, he would raise his eyes a bit every few seconds and glance at the blond. Then, as though afraid of being detected, he would train his eyes on the page again, only to repeat the process seconds later. That was unexpected. Before Harry could ponder his friend's behaviour further, the door opened and the willowy Draco stepped in giving Harry the split second needed to slip into the room undetected.

"Afternoon everyone, sorry I'm a bit late", said Draco as he made his way to the other unoccupied armchair and flopped down.

"Did you see Potter on the way?" replied Snape and when Draco's confused eyes met his added, "He is rarely late."

"I wasn't aware I was late Severus" said Harry and made his way to the coffee table in the middle of the room. Ignoring three pairs of confused/irritated/impressed eyes was not an easy task. Finally Snape shook himself and sat up on the sofa.

"You Mister Potter are in danger of turning into the next Dumbledore."

"What can I say, he rubs off on people. It's an occupational hazard of working with the man. What have you got for us?"

"Eager one, are you? Perhaps Lucius will explain it better than I, but we may have found a way to off the bastard. Lucius, if you will?" Saying all of that proved hard for Snape and he gingerly lowered himself back onto the pillows. Harry filed the expression on the man's face away for further examination. Maybe he was not healing as rapidly as he claimed. Knowing Snape as he did, Harry make sure to see the man later and check up on his ribs. He knew and accepted his inability to make Severus happy. The best he could do for the man he cared so much for was make sure he lived long enough to find someone else to do what he cold not because of his parentage. Lucius' melodic tones brought him back to the present and he turned his attention to the piece of parchment in front of his face. It was the same one he and Snape talked about before Harry came in.

"Earlier this year, Draco and I noticed that every Death eater meeting was arranged the same way, meaning that certain people always stood in the same spot making a semi circle around Voldemort. It's the same structure as the human eye, in a way. Voldemort puts himself in the position of a focus, and thus uses his followers' power instead of just his own. That's why he appears virtually all powerful."

"Have you checked the theory?" voiced Ron, worry evident in his tone.

"Yes Mister Weasley. Between Severus and myself, we have enough Occulmency to realise when our power is being siphoned off." Answered Lucius with a slight half smile on his lips. Ron flushed and retreated back into the chair. Harry barely resisted raising his eyebrows; this was most unexpected of both parties. Instead, he looked at the diagram in front of him. In Snape's spidery handwriting every name and figure was labelled. It did, in fact look like a diagram of the eye.

"So the bastard draws all of the inner circle's magic and focuses it?"

"Yes Potter, glad to know you can infer the obvious." Harry ignored the dig and looked up at Ron, who was looking at Lucius, who was looking at Ron's reflection in the mirror. That clinched it. He'd talk to Ron about it and get him to do something. This was rare and precious and easily lost. He knew so from experience and wouldn't wish it on Voldemort himself.

"Ron?"

"Uh? Oh, yeah, what?"

"Any ideas?"

"Well, if we can cut him off from the supply, he should be easy to Avada off. The only issue is the way he draws magic from people. Professor Snape?"

"Yes it's through the Dark Mark, which is not erasable, believe me, I've tried", barked Snape and snuggled further into the couch looking like an offended raven. Draco, who until then sat quietly in his corner rose and walked over to Harry and took the diagram.

"Would you mind if I took it to Herm? She'd be grateful for a task and may find out more." Collective nods answered his request and he sat back down, easily slipping back into the role of observer.

"So, gentlemen, let's assume we can find a way to interfere with the energy transfer. How can we get at the big bad then? What use is this diagram if we can't off him anyway?"

"Harry really, this is elementary. Once the supply is limited we can just run him into the ground." When Ron saw that his answer was only a puzzled look, he elaborated. "We can use you as a conduit and ground. It's something muggles use for lightning. Lucius says it will work. Theoretically, you would just pass his magic through you and into the ground below. You've done it before when you survived him the first time around."  
"Honestly Mister Potter, it's the only way you could have. Thus, your body has to have some sort of sense memory of it, which theoretically should make your task easier. All you would have to do is train, and luckily, Severus is right down the stairs from your rooms."  
"Lucius! You cannot be implying that I train him yet again? Besides, there's Killian to consider..."  
"If this fails, there will be no Killian to consider! Also, Ronald and I are available to take care of him." Snape only scowled and Draco took the silence for tacit agreement. "That's settled then. Would you lot mind setting the next meeting for a week from now?" With nods of agreement all around the Malfoys rose and walked out leaving Severus, Harry and Ron in the room. Harry thought about helping Snape back to Hogwarts, but Ron was already there. Besides, he had to check up on his son and a class to teach. With a quiet pop, he apparated to the Forbidden Forest and started the long trek to the school.


	7. Repressive

Real life intruded and I didnt finish off the whole chapter. However, this the bit I did finish. All the disclaimers apply , and as usual, comments would be appreaciated.  
Thanks to Lantaana for the beta and support.

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Harry barely made it back in time to prevent his fifth year Slytherin/Gryffindor from hexing each other into the next week. The shouts alerted him to the situation from three floors below and he automatically lengthened his uneven seeker's gait. For once the staircases did not hinder his progress, perhaps sensing the agitation in his magic. He rounded the last corner in a rather pirouette like hop and stood unnoticed for a moment assessing the scene.

Sylphede Lewisham, an unexpectedly black haired Malfoy cousin was on the floor pinning down what appeared to be a blond haired Gryffindor. The girls rolled around and the second party turned out to be none other that Miranda Bones, whose arrival in Gryffindor broke century's worth of tradition. Once on top Miranda used the Slytherin's long braid to force the other girl's head into the floor. On the third thump, Sylphede kneed her opponent in the back and scrambled onto her feet. The crowd, which until then stood by motionless let out a collective sound of surprised glee and a few Slytherins cheered. Harry chose to make his presence known then, before the fight escalated further.

"Well Miss Bones, Miss Lewisham, now that you've finished demonstrating your level of maturity in front of both your houses, maybe we can start today's lesson? Twenty point off each of you and detention with your house head, at their discretion." With that Harry walked to the classroom and opened the door with a wave of his wand. "Since you've both collected a sufficient number of scrapes, you will demonstrate the diagnostic charms we've covered last week, on each other." The girls stared at him with twin looks of horror, but neither dared open her mouth. "As soon as the class is settled, you may come up to the front of the room and begin."

That ensured that the students would be ready quickly. Nothing was better than fresh blood in getting them motivated. Harry shuddered to think that he was once of their number; blood-and-gossip thirsty, inept even in the basics and thoroughly preoccupied in things that would lose all importance upon their graduation. "I suppose this is how Severus felt when he started teaching", thought Harry as the two bruised girls made their way to the front of the class as though going to receive the Dementor's Kiss. Halfway there, Sylphede balked and started opening her mouth with the familiar expression of a disgruntled Malfoy on her face.

"I assure you Miss Lewisham, there is no way for you to avoid this unless you wish to lose 50 points for your house and to have a forthright worth of Mr Filch's company. I am sure your cousin would more than likely agree with my measures as well. Is that clear?" With a toss of her head, the girl continued on to the raised platform.

Harry let the girls go after each had demonstrated uses of the Desafinado charm in conjunction with other healing spells, and let the class go early after getting slightly homicidal at their level of laziness. "Do read the introductory chapter on healing potions. Professor Snape has generously agreed to be my guest for the next three lectures."

Once the collective groans stopped echoing off the walls, Harry made his way down to the kitchens and tickled the pear. The cacophony of the place assaulted his ears as he made his way to a small table behind the stove. Recently he began coming back to his old hiding place and the elves readily welcomed him back. For all the time he and Ron had spent in the kitchens, this particular corner had always been his private oasis. That's where he went when he needed to get away, to think, and now he took his sweet time nursing a bottle of butter beer and letting his thoughts run wild.

The new strategy against Voldemort was the soundest one they'd had yet. The sheer logic of the process made it a virtually foolproof framework. All they had to do now was find the best applicable spells, and find a way to block the Dark Mark. Not too tall an order for Hermione and Severus. As for himself, he dreaded keeping everything from Dumbledore. For all of his twinkling and seeming obliviousness, the man was a master Legilimens and above all _nosy_. If he were to find out, the order would get involved; bringing with it Moody and Sirius, and all would go to hell. He knew those two entirely too well. They'd bait Severus and the older Malfoy until both sides left in a huff.

Speaking of the Slytherins, the conversation with Ron would be thoroughly uncomfortable. He'd be surprised if his friend didn't just tell him to follow his own advice. Then he'd have to recount his entire grisly set of reasons and get hurt again for his trouble. Then again, Ron would be well within his rights to tell him off. On the other side, it wasn't his fault that his best friend actually had a chance at a happy affair. Lucius actively returned Ron's feelings, even if he chose to be blind and wallow in misery. Besides, Ron had lovers before, he didn't have the fate of the Wizarding World resting with him, and Lucius was not Snape. There was a good chance for him, and Harry felt obligated to make him see it. With that in mind, he emptied the butter beer and thanking the house elves left the kitchens. He'd talk to Ron tonight. For now though, it was time to check up on Killian.


	8. Blind and Deaf

Well, here's the bit that just wouldn't come to me. I've finally finished it, and Lantaana has graciously betaed it. Here goes..

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When he saw his son's sleeping form, Harry had to stop himself from leaving the infirmary altogether. The infirmary was empty and silent save for the humming coming form the Mediwitch's office. Killian looked miniscule in the narrow bed, his torso and arm swaddled in plaster so only his head peeked out. His prone body lay unmoving with the sleep of the drugged. That, in itself, was neither bad nor unexpected. It was the extreme paleness of the visible skin that scared Harry out of his wits. The enormous bottle of skele-gro at his bedside proved that Severus had beaten him there, by an hour at least.

"Well Mr. Potter, when were you planning on enlightening me on this development?" The Potions Master has materialized directly behind Harry, and was glowering down at him with unabashed ill humour. Suddenly shaky, Harry took a step away from the man and further into the room.

"It only just happened; I really had no chance to let you know. You weren't here during lunch, and Madame Occasia is quite good at her job." When Severus made no move to answer, Harry shifted further into the room and looked up to catch the man's eye. "You must realise I'd no intention of keeping you ignorant of this."

"I suddenly feel reassured" drawled the said man and took a step towards Harry, who backed further towards Killian's bed. "Would you like to let me know now, seeing that we're conveniently next to the young man in question?" Feeling thoroughly flustered, Harry chose to focus on anything but Severus, and so ended up looking at his son's small hand peeking out of the plaster.

"Well you see, you know how the Cannons presented Ron and me with their brooms from the last season?"

"Go on."

"I really haven't a clue on how he got his hands on it..."

"I'd think that leaving the blasted thing in your hallway was a clue."

"It wasn't in the corridor! I left it on top of the coat rack!"

"Which, Potter is in your corridor!"

"But he shouldn't be able to get up that far... It's impossible, even with chairs!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake; he's your son! Whet else did you expect!?" Harry made to answer that Killian had no Potter genes, and it was Severus he called Papa, but the man waved him off. "I can piece it together now. The boy took it out for a ride; you saw him by sheer circumstance and flew after him just in time to save him from splattering himself on the Great Lawn?" When Harry mutely nodded, Severus threw up his hands, looked up to the ceiling and muttered something about a generous helping of Potter luck.

"The damage is not as bad as it could've been..." ventured Harry only to be shot down by the other man's glare.

"I would imagine that landing on you instead of the ground would do that. The Mediwitch told me, after telling me that you're far too proficient at self healing. Why didn't you tell me?" he added in a lowered voice.

"Because it wasn't of prime importance", hissed Harry in response." Besides, I would have told you eventually."

"Don't lie to me Potter. You'd have told me about Killian, and nothing of your part in this mess. Damn it, I should have been told!"

"Why, Severus? You and I share Killian's affection and he has yours, which is enough reason for me to let you know of his state. You and I however..." Harry trailed off, still refusing to move his eye anywhere near Severus, and missed the quick flash of blankness in the man's features. When he did manage to look up at him, Severus' face was, once again, schooled into a semblance of polite iciness.

"You are indeed correct Mr. Potter. Do forgive my intrusion." With that, the man bent to touch Killian's cheek, and then left, not once looking over his shoulder.

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I'm working on the next chapter, and Harry's being recalcitrant.

Other than that.... please feel free to tell me what you think.


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